


Pokemon and Snickers Bars

by ifuckinglovedragons



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Multi, Original Pokemon Trainer - Freeform, Pokemon - Freeform, Pokemon Emerald - Freeform, Pokemon Fanfiction, Pokemon Journey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2444813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifuckinglovedragons/pseuds/ifuckinglovedragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This whole "Pokemon Journey" thing would probably be a lot easier if there were more vending machines around...and a lot less asshole starters and douchey Criminal Teams running around.</p>
<p>(Yes, this is an OC story. Kinda. More like this started out as a story to poke fun at the weird things the Player has to deal with through the eyes of the character. There's a graphic violence warning...but that's because of a couple select instances, it is not common.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So This is Littleroot?

Moving vans...they are uncomfortable. 

No, wait, scratch that. I lied. That was an understatement. Moving vans are extremely, utterly, unmistakably, horribly uncomfortable. There, that about sums it up. Oh, the front of the moving van is fine, just fine. Sure, they don't have the interior of, say, a European sports car, but they're sturdy. And air conditioned. And there are usually snacks there. And a radio. And it's all just plain hunky-dory. 

But I'm not sitting in the dandy, slightly lower-class standard front part of the moving van, am I? No, I'm not. What gave it away? 

Ugh. Can you imagine it? Sitting on the gritty, hard floor of the storage section on a moving van, your rear end obtaining a new bruise with every speed bump the truck hits. Oh, yeah. That's luxury, all right. Pft, luxury my foot. The stupid truck didn't even have a god damn window. So as a result, I wouldn't have been able to tell if we were heading on the right direction, to our new town, or if we were going full speed ahead up to the North Pole. 

No, wait. I lied again. I would be able to tell if we were beading to the blissfully chilly home of Santa and his elves, because the truck was smoldering hot. In fact, I'm sure that if it had gotten any hotter, I would have spontaneously combusted by now—twice. 

Crouched between a wooden chest and some cardboard boxes, I pulled my purple bandanna off and wiped my dripping forehead off. Then, disregarding how damp the cloth now was, I defied it back around my head. Yeah, I'm gross. I really don't care at the moment.

I sighed, then attempted to change my sitting position, but failed horribly. Both legs from the knees down had fallen asleep, due to my cramped position, and in addition to that, I was wearing shoes that were two sizes too small. In all the excitement of the move, and despite the sudden occurrence of a major growth spurt in my feet, shoe shopping was out of the question. So my toesies were, in fact, very squished and squashed indeed. 

So as a result, my legs were now experiencing this weird, numb-yet-in-serious-pain feeling, as if I had half our belongings sitting in my lap. 

The fact that I had nothing to do was a letdown, too. I mean, if I had a video game, or a book, or even a patch of growing grass in front of me, the experience might not have been as painful and boring. Unfortunately, however, my Gameboy was packed somewhere in our mass of boxes, and I wasn't prepared to risk an avalanche of cardboard, clothing, and a refrigerator to get it. And besides, Mom's box of weights was already falling on me every fifteen minutes, and I wasn't masochistic enough to add to my pain. I'm pretty sure I have a crack in my skull somewhere by now... 

Oh, and on top of that, I'm hungry, too. Starving, in fact. Tree bark actually sounded pretty good, at the moment... 

So, yeah. I'm sure you can imagine my tears of joy when I felt the truck slowly come to a stop. 

The door rolled up, and bright light flooded the dark Hellhole. 

"The door..." I moaned as I pushed myself out of that God-forsaken vehicle. 

"Ah! Ha-ha!" I exclaimed triumphantly as my feet touched the ground. A second later, however, my numb, unsupported legs gave away beneath me, and I fell onto the ground on my side, my temple slamming against the rocks. 

"Aaagh, shit." I swore, stars dancing before my eyes. 

"Did you say something, honey?" I heard my mom ask. I looked up to see her blurry image walking towards me from the front of the van. 

"Eh...slip. I slipped. So I fell. Yeah, that's it." I said lamely as I pushed myself up, my eyesight clearing dramatically. 

Mom took my hand and helped steady me into a stable position. Mom's actually only a few inches taller than I am, with long, curly, dark brown hair and shiny, dark eyes. I, on the other hand, am a lighter specimen, sporting light brown hair held in a bandanna, with blue eyes and a few freckles on my nose. 

Mom hugged me tightly. "Oh, Marcy!" She held me at my shoulders and looked at me. "We're here, honey! Isn't it great?" 

As I dusted off my jacket and jeans, I looked around the tiny town. Well...Littleroot certainly was "Little". Three buildings, really? Then why are there so many people walking around outside? Where do they live? And how the Hell are we supposed to get grocery shopping done with no stores? "...Sure, Mom." 

She looked behind me, at the interior of my former prison. "My, it must have been tiring, riding with our things in the moving truck." 

I was about to say bluntly, "No shit." when I remembered who I was talking to. I have to catch myself at times, or my temper will get the better of me and I'll say something I'll regret later. "Yeah, I guess it was." I said carefully. 

"Well," she sighed and looked around the tiny area. "This is Littleroot town! Do you like it, Marcy?" 

 

"Well...it's very, ah..." I searched for a non-offensive word to replace 'boring', 'lame', and 'cramped'. "Clean." I finished at long last after an uncomfortable moment of silence. 

Mom, however, didn't seem to notice. "Yes, it is clean, isn't it? And it has a quaint feel to it as well...But is seems like it'll be an easy place to live, don't you think?" 

I looked around again. Easy, yes. Exciting, no. I shrugged, "Yeah, I guess it seems nice..." 

"Are you sure?" She looked right into my eyes. "Really, Marcy, do you really like it?" 

Oh, Lord. The Look. My mom has this look that makes you feel like you just got done beating her or something. Well, after all, she's the one I inherited my puppy dog eyes from...But that's beside the point. My mom has spent the last ten years trying to make me, her daughter, happy. We've moved around a lot over the past decade. And judging by the mount of concerned late night talks with my dad I've overheard, I'm pretty sure she feels that that has had a negative impact on me. Well...it has. I'm not going to pretend it hasn't.. I've lost so many friends over the years, moving from Johto, where I was born, to so many other places. I've lost a lot. And my mom feels partly responsible. But really...it's not her fault. It's not. And I don't hold anything against her. 

So I smiled as brightly as I could. "Yes, Mom. I love it." 

My mom then wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. "This is the last move, Marcy. This is it. No more feeling out of place. No more friends to lose. No more. You're here to stay." 

I hugged her back. "Yeah. I know." 

I, however, was lying. I didn't know I was lying, of course, and my mother didn't know she was lying, either. Because this wouldn't be my last move. In fact, that day would begin the biggest move of my life.

 

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

She then took my hand and pulled me toward the house. 

 

"Oh, Marcy, you're going to love it here! Isn't the house gorgeous?" She asked excitedly. 

I looked over my new home. I guess it was a nice looking house, I'll admit it, but maybe I just don't understand the meaning of the word "gorgeous". Or maybe at that moment, the only thing that would come across as "gorgeous" would be a King-Sized Snickers bar...oh yes...chocolatey with caramel....soft and crunchy...christ, if I don't eat anything soon I'm going to double over and just graze because this is ridiculous.

"Aaaand this is our new home!" Mom exclaimed as she flung open the door and we entered the house. 

I looked around the living room. Everything seemed pretty generic, I supposed...a couch, curtains, a television...two mountains of fluff...that were clearly breathing, wait, WHAT THE FU--!

 

I was about to shout out in surprise when one of the "mountains of fluff" turned and was able to give me a good look at him. I clapped my hand over my mouth, halting the cry. Oh. Our movers were using their Pokémon to help out. Oh, wow. Good thing I caught myself...I wouldn't have wanted to look stupid...which...happens a lot more than I'd like to admit...

Mom came up from behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder as I stared at the two beasts as they moved boxes around. Squeezing, she said excitedly to me, "Oh, and isn't this great? Pokémon movers! It's so convenient, isn't it?" 

I forced a polite smile, nodding silently. I know mom wasn't doing it on purpose, praising Pokemon like this to me...it was just a fact. Pokemon were mysterious...incredible...

If only, you know...I had one...


	2. So This notebook was blank before

"Oh, Marcy!" My mom exclaimed, interrupting my thoughts. "I forgot to tell you, honey...your room is upstairs! Last door to the right, can't miss it! Now, go on up there, check it out! Your father bought you a new clock, by the way-so don't forget to set it!" 

I chewed at my cheek for a moment, then smiled wryly. "Okay, Mom. Thanks." 

And with that I turned on my heel and headed upstairs. As I went up, I heard my mom exclaim, "Oh, here's my box of weights!...But why is there blood on the box...?" 

Yeah, no. Nope. Not getting into that. Not today.

At the end of the hall at the top of the stairs, a tall, pristine white door waited for me. Opening it, i was greeted with...a normal looking, generic room. I honestly wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. With hired movers it could have been gone either way, and this is definitely the preferred scenario. The room seemed to be set up neatly, which was a relief to say the least. My desk tucked into the corner, my bed against the wall, even my dingy old GameCube plugged into my TV on the floor. It was almost...homey. 

Glancing up, I noticed a simple, black rimmed clock on the wall. As I got closer, I saw that the second hand was still. Looking around, I caught eye of my desk chair placed near the far wall, right next to my PC. I quickly pulled it over, and, standing on it, set it to the right hour and minute, after checking my watch, of course. 

When that was done, as if on cue, Mom knocked on the door and came in to stand beside me. Putting an arm around my shoulders, she said, "So, Marcy, how do you like your room? It seems set up all right...is there anything you'd like to change?" 

I shook my head. "Nah, it's fine the way it is. I might paint it or something later on, but for now, you know, this is all right."

"Oh, good. I'm glad you like it. You know, you always wanted to decorate your room in such bizarre ways when you were younger. I remember when you were five--absolutely hellbent on a slide and a giant piano on your floor." She giggled, touching her chin. "At least your tastes aren't quite so outlandish these days, huh?"

Like hell they're not. I know exactly what i'm doing with my first million and it involves lots of Pokemon plushies and so many indoor slides it'll give a five year old a panic attack from not being able to decide what it wants to do first.

"Anyway," Mom continued, "Downstairs is all set up! And the kitchen. Thank god."

I blinked. "Oh, wow. That's grea-really? Everything's moved in?" 

"I know, right?? We can actually use our house on the first day! Amazing!"

Yeah, jeez. Either those movers were quicker than I thought, or we just don't have that much stuff. Hmmm... 

Mom turned and went to stand in the doorway, hands on her hips. "Well, honey, I'm glad you like your room. I'm going to head downstairs; you'd better double check your room, make sure everything is exactly where you want it to be. Okay?" 

"Okay, but, um, hey, where's Da--"

But before I could get a word out, she had already left my room.

Hmmmmm. Well, I could always ask later.

I stretched my arms behind my back, sighing. I scanned my room, checking for any placement errors. I switched a couple pillows around on my bed, adjusted the height of my desk chair. I turned the mirror on my wall upside down for kicks. After changing around multiple minuscule things around, I finally slumped down at my desk. I noticed my bright red notebook placed placed neatly on it directly in front of me, and lazily flipped it open. 

To my surprise, the first page had writing on it. That...definitely was new. I had never used this notebook before, it was brand new. Perhaps there was something the movers had wanted us to know but didn't have time to tell us. My interest piqued, I looked closer to read the words: 

"Adventuring tip number one: Use Menu to save!" I read aloud. I wrinkled my nose. "Wait, what the fuck? But that makes no sense? That literally makes no sense. I didn't write this. Who the fuck even..." 

I was about to rip it out when I heard my mom calling my name, slight urgency in her voice. "Marcy!" 

Dropping the notebook, I bolted downstairs, never minding my aching feet. As soon as I reached the bottom of the staircase, I heard her exclaim again, "Marcy, quick! Come quickly!" 

I rushed over to where she was standing, in front of the television. "What is it, Mom? Are you hurt?" I asked, my hand on her shoulder. 

She pointed at the TV. "Look! It's Petalburg Gym! On the TV! Maybe Dad will be on!" 

"God dammit mom. I thought something was wrong!"

"Look look look! There he is, there he is!"

Rolling my eyes but also quite relieved that she was fine, i turned my eyes to the glowing screen.

But as I began to watch, a reporter, a petite brunette woman, had appeared on the screen, and was saying, "...We brought you this report from in front of the Petalburg Gym." And with that, the program ended. 

Mom scowled. "Oh, shoot. You missed him. Oh, well, we can ask about it at dinner tonight, right?" 

I snorted, "Yeah, if he even comes home for dinner..." 

"Oh come on now, your father may be late a few times, but he always comes home...at some point..." Mom defended. 

"Mom, come on, now. This is dad we're talking about here. He's not exactly the world's greatest dad. He does nothing but train....and talk about his stupid gym..." I grimaced.

Mom wrapped her arms around me. "Oh, Marcy, Marcy, Marcy...it'll be fine. We'll all be fine. he may show it in odd ways, but...your father loves us. You just have to remember that." 

I rested my head on her shoulder "...I guess so." I said halfheartedly. 

"I think you could use some fresh air." She said, lifting my chin to look at her. "Hey, you know your father and I have a friend in town, right? Professor Birch? Why don't you go visit him?"

What? "What? PROFESSOR Birch? Like a Pokémon Professor? But Mom..." 

"Oh, no 'But Mom's..." 

"Is he gonna be like Professor Palm?" I asked, whining, I admit, but with good reason. "Because Professor Palm kinda scared me...He's totally bound to be a total weirdo! He probably spends his spare time practicing Pokémon Mating calls using glass bottles...or carves Pokémon footprints out of old sandwich bread! You remember Professor Palm's 'experiments'..." I said pointedly. God, I still have nightmares sometimes... 

Mom clicked her tongue as she shooed me outside. "There's nothing wrong with strange hobbies. Besides, like I said, it would be good for you to get out. Now, be nice!" She finished sternly before she closed the door. 

"Fine." I huffed as I stepped away from the front door. Despite my protests, I wasn't actually that against going out. It was better than just sitting upstairs in my room, anyway. 

As I looked around again, I was reminded once more as to how small Littleroot really was. Small, quaint, and homey. A good place to just settle down and stay close to home. Perfect for my mother, who had moved around even in her childhood, and wanted nothing more than a place to just stay in. But it was a bad place for a fourteen year-old to live, especially one like myself who wanted to get out and do something with her life. Too small for any teenager, really. 

However, at the moment, I was quite grateful for the town's small size, as my feet, in their minuscule shoes, ached with every step I took. Luckily, the Professor lived right next door. The less walking I did, the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god this chapter was so awkward to write because it's all tutorial shit. You can't even save yet I don't think. Anyway, I hope it wasn't too awkward, christ.


	3. Marcy The Incompetent Hero of Time

For some reason, when I stood outside of the Professor's home, I felt a strong sense of Déjà vu. I looked at the house before me. Then I craned my neck to look at my own house. I shook my head; if they were only going to build two houses, why on earth would they make them look identical? Does it even count at cookie cutter if there are only two of them? How confusing is this going to be? I don't want to come inside one night and find that I'd walked into our neighbor's house on accident. I'd hate to get a restraining order of some sort when I just moved here. That would be, well, pretty awful. 

I shrugged, and rang the doorbell. Then there was the awkward moment of waiting for someone to answer. I really hate that moment. Because the longer I wait, the more nervous I get that I'm interrupting something important. What if a family member just died, and they just received the phone call, and are all in a teary hug fest, when ding-dong, here I come, insensitive Marcy Maple here, coming to intrude on your already rainy parade? Or what if they were eating or something? Or they just wouldn't answer the door because they thought I was selling magazine subscriptions or cookie dough or coupon books or Bibles or was trying to convert them to some obscure religion, or... 

I sighed and shook my head. Just more thoughts to make me nervous and squirm in my tight shoes. 

Nonetheless, I probably would have made myself scarce then and there if the doorknob hadn't suddenly turned and the door hadn't opened right at that moment. A second later a black haired woman stood before me, a wide smile on her face. She held a blue dish towel in her hand, signifying that she most likely was in the middle of doing something, but at least she didn't seem mad about it. The smile never leaving her face, she said, "Hi, can I help you?" 

"Um...hi!" I said lamely as I gave a little wave. Okay, now what do I say? "Uh, I'm Marcy Maple. Your, uh...new neighbor?" To further emphasize my statement I gestured to my home at the right. 

The woman's eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh right! Norman's family moved in next door...and you're his daughter?" 

I nodded. 

"Well, come in, come in!" she prodded, opening the door wider for me to pass. "I'm Mrs. Birch...would you be looking for Brendan?" 

"Is that the Professor?" I asked as I entered the house. Strangely, as I looked around, I noticed its similar layout to our own home...huh... 

My thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Birch laughing and saying, "Oh, no no no, Brendan is our son! Although he knows so much about Pokémon that he probably will be called the professor one day...Max!" She suddenly exclaimed, "What have I told you about trying to catch Sanders in a Pokéball?" 

I looked over a couch to see what appeared to be a sticky looking four year-old and an infant sitting on the ground, which would have been a normal sight to see had the four year-old not been holding a Pokéball in such an aggressive manner, held back and ready to be thrown. At the baby. 

Mrs. Birch went over and scooped up the infant. "Well, anyway, Brendan has been looking forward to making a new friend...finally, someone he can spend time with that doesn't live in a Pokéball!" 

The look on my face must have been priceless, because she began to laugh and amended, "Oh, he has other friends, but they all live in other towns, all too far for him to go to just to visit a friend. Now, Brendan's room is upstairs, and he might be up there...go on up!" She waved encouragingly. 

"Um...okay..." I said, cautiously making my way to the stairs. 

"His room is the last room on the left!" Mrs. Birch called as I headed up. 

Okay, well, this was just great. Simply peachy. I had to meet my dad's friend's sniveling little kid who is probably half my age and a quarter my height. And according to his mom, he has Pokémon of his own already! And the first thing he's going to ask is to see what sort of Pokémon I have, and what am I going to have to say to that? That I don't have Pokémon of my own. This sucks. 

For a moment, just a moment, I had a glimmer of hope. Maybe he had a Pokémon, but wasn't so obsessed with it that he would ask me about my nonexistent one! Maybe he really doesn't care that much about Pokémon too much! Yes, humiliation spared! 

But then, alas, harsh, cruel reality struck me. The way his mom talked about him, this Brendan kid seemed like he ate, slept, and breathed Pokémon. Plus, he was the son of a Pokémon professor, which made it inevitable that he would love Pokémon. He probably had tidy-whites with Mudkips on them. 

Gr. I can't get a break. 

When I reached the last door on the left, I stopped outside it, sighing. 

Well. Here goes. 

I knocked on the wood, then listened for permission to enter. As I heard nothing, I shrugged and decided to open the door anyway and peek inside. 

Empty. No one was there. 

I sighed, and stepped into the room. For a boy's room, it was actually pretty clean. It almost seemed unused. But the theme was most definitely Pokémon. About five Pokémon posters plastered the walls, and there were half a dozen Pokémon plushies on his bed. 

Aw. How cute. I wondered if he really did wear Mudkip tidy-whities. 

I caught sight of a white poster near the PC in the corner. I looked closer and saw the names and stats of hundreds and hundreds of Pokémon, with bold black checkmarks next to several of them. 

Sheesh. This kid had way too much time on his hands. I leaned up against the wall and sighed once more. I'd wait five minutes for this kid to show up, then I'd make like a banana and split. I didn't have time for this, I needed to find a- 

A Pokéball. 

I caught sight of the small red and white ball in the middle of the floor and froze where I stood. 

A Pokéball. A real Pokéball. Not one of those stupid fake ones everyone had when they were three. A real one. Real. 

What's more, it had a Pokémon inside it-I could tell by the gentle humming exerting from it. 

I looked back at the poster on the wall behind me-the one of all the Pokémon he had caught. He had so many...I was sure he wouldn't miss just one...After all, he had just left it out in the middle of the floor. Obviously, it wasn't his most important one... 

(Yeah, I know. Stealing is wrong, blah blah blah. What I was going to do was wrong, but really, what would you have done in my place? Besides, now that I look back, I don't think I would have gone through with it, anyway.) 

I edged closer and closer to the Pokéball. Soon I was right in arm's reach of it, but right as I was about to take it, I heard a voice behind me. 

"Hey!" 

I stood up and spun around to see a boy with black hair wearing a strange looking hat in the doorway. His clothing consisted of black pants and a red and black long-sleeved, sort of athletic shirt. His backpack seemed halfway off his shoulder and he was looking at me with surprise and alertness in his face. 

Brendan. Of course. 

This entire time I'd been expecting a short little kid around the age of seven or eight. But no, I wasn't even close. Brendan was four inches taller than me and seemed to be my age exactly.

 

Which made everything about me not having a Pokémon even worse. Because at least little kids can forgive you, or at least forget about it (my three year old cousin Leslie has the attention span of a goldfish) but teenagers are completely different. They judge. And they don't forget about anything. Usually, I wouldn't care what Brendan thought. I usually don't care too much what people in general think. But since this guy was going to be my next door neighbor for the rest of my life...well, I figured that I might as well make good impression. 

But by the looks of things, that didn't seem to be happening. 

I glanced over Brendan again. 

Hm. Tidy-whites with Mudkips doesn't suit him. Briefs, maybe? Or boxers. 

"Yeah, you look like a boxers kind of guy," I said absentmindedly aloud. 

 

"What?" he asked, puzzled. 

I quickly checked myself. "Nothing, nothing... 

"You..." He came closer to me, "Who are you?" 

I said something real intelligent: "Um..." 

Then he suddenly smacked his forehead. "Oh, you're our new neighbor, right? You moved in next door?" 

I nodded. "Yeah, your mom sent me up here when I my mom sent me over...she didn't tell you I was up here?" I asked. 

He shook his head. 

"Well, I hope it's all right..." I said, just realizing how awkward it must be for him to find a girl in his bedroom (snooping, no less! Though he doesn't need to know that...). 

He shook his head, "Yeah, it's fine...Huh." he suddenly said, looking me over, a finger touched to his chin. "I didn't know you were a girl..." Then his face turned a light shade of red, and he hastily added, "I mean, not that it matters! It's just that my dad told me a Gym Leader's family would be moving in next door, and that they had a kid my age, and I kinda...sorta...assumed it was a guy." He finished the sentence with a squirm. "Not that there's anything wrong with being a girl! I know lots of great girl trainers, I'm sure you're going to be one of them..." 

If I was in a bad mood, at this point I would have grabbed this boy by the ear and gave him an hour long lecture about how sexist it was to assume that I was a male, and blah blah blah, but since I'm NOT in that kind of mood, I just answered nervously, "Uh, yeah. Trainer. Riiiight." 

He held out his hand, "So...yeah. I'm Brendan." 

Well, I already knew his name what his name was, but t would be kinda creepy for me to let him know that, so I took the hand and replied, "Marcy." 

"Marcy? Not bad. You strike me as a May, though, for some reason. But Marcy is better." He grinned. 

Well, so far Brendan seemed nice enough. He hadn't gotten weirded out by me being in his room, and more importantly, he hadn't even mentioned Pokémon yet! At this rate, maybe I could get out of here without the subject even coming up! 

"So, Marcy, my dad tells me you don't have a Pokémon yet." 

I did a double-take at him. Damn! Daaaamn!! I was hoping I'd get a break! "How did you...how did he...know that?" I managed to choke out. Honestly, how did he possibly find out? Him knowing that is way creepier than me being in his room! 

He grinned and shrugged, "Your dad told my dad. And my dad told me. Don't worry, lots of kids don't have Pokémon...but, out of curiosity...why don't you?" He asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

Ho, boy. Here came the explanation. "Well...when I was younger, my dad said I could get a Pokémon. You know, he's a really dedicated trainer and thought that any kid could handle a Pokémon, especially me, being his daughter and all. But my mom didn't want to rush into it, you know? She was pretty protective of me and was told me that taking care of a living creature was a really big responsibility. So...she decided to give me a test before I could get my own Pokémon..." 

Brendan paled. "Oh, no..." 

I nodded, "Oh, yes. The goldfish test. If I could keep a goldfish alive for two months, then I could get a Pokémon." 

"But you passed it, right? I mean, you can get a Pokémon now, that must mean you passed it..." 

"Oh, I can get a Pokémon now, all right. That doesn't mean I passed the test on the first try." 

"You didn't? How about the second try?" 

I shook my head. 

"What? How many times did you fail?" I did the calculations in my head. "Roughly fourteen times." 

"Fourteen times?!" 

"Hey, there was something wrong with those goldfish!" I said in my defense. "They all died after one night! Every single one of them!" 

"Well, if they all died after one night, how did you pass?" 

I shrugged. "The pet store was down the street. All I had to do was run down and buy a new goldfish every night-they were only like twenty-five cents each-and even when two months rolled by, my mom knew none the better! So she told me after our next move I could get a Pokémon. And that's that." I said, nodding. I snorted, adding, "It was a dent in my allowance, though, I'll tell you that..."

"Well to tell truth, Pokémon are much easier to take care of than, well, goldfish. So whether you can keep a goldfish alive doesn't really matter." Brendan put his hands in his pockets. "So...do you want me to go out and help you catch one?" 

My heart felt like it stopped. "Wh-really? You'd do that?" 

He grinned. "Sure! Love thy neighbor, right?" He chuckled. Then his face fell. "Aw, I forgot. I'm supposed to go help my dad catch some wild Pokémon for research. And right now I've got to upload in the data on my Pokédex to my computer...it could take a while. Some other time, okay?" He said, truly looking sorry. 

I waved at the air dismissively. "Oh, pft, it's fine. I've waited years, I can wait a little longer, right?" 

"Yeah, I guess. I still feel bad, though..." 

"It's fine, believe me. I've gotta go, anyway." I said as I headed for the door. 

"Okay...If you're sure." He gave me a wave, half-smiling. "See ya later, then, Marcy." 

"Bye, Brendan! Talk to you later!" And with that, I headed downstairs. 

Mrs. Birch was sitting at the kitchen table, with the baby in a high chair and the sticky four year old in her lap, obviously trying to feed them both. 

"Marcy!" She exclaimed when she saw me, "Did you talk to Brendan?" 

"Yeah, but then he had to do some research stuff..." What was that thing he had called? A Poké-what? 

She laughed. "That Brendan! Always so busy, I wasn't sure if he'd even notice you were there...well, like father like son, right?" 

Then the small sticky child on her lap opened its small sticky mouth. "Hi, neighbor! Do you have your own Pokémon?" 

I left after that. I didn't want to be in trouble for mauling my neighbor's toddler for being an insensitive asshole. 

Outside, I inhaled the warm air. Oh, well, so I didn't have a Pokémon just yet. Big whoop. And, sure, I still hadn't talked to Professor Birch, but I seriously doubted I was missing anything. And besides, if he was anything like Professor Palm...well, let's just say I could hold off on the meeting for now. So I was ready to head home, take these god forsaken shoes off, hop in the shower, eat a cup of noodles, then sit down and- 

I suddenly became aware of a little girl jumping up and down anxiously at the beginning of the travel route north of Littleroot. Sensing something was wrong, I headed over. 

I knelt down to meet her at eye level. "Is something the matter?" I asked.

She looked at me with huge brown eyes. "Um, hi!" Now why did that sound familiar..."There are scary Pokémon outside! I can hear their cries!" 

"Scary Pokémon?" 

She nodded. "Uh-huh! I want to go out and see what is going on, but I don't have any Pokémon!" 

Feh. Join the club, sis. 

"Can you go see what is happening for me?" 

"Huh?" I said. Whoa, now! I don't have a Pokémon, either! 

She pointed down the path. "Go on, you can do it!" 

Eh. I guess I could take a peek... 

I walked a little ways down the path, then stopped abruptly when I heard a vicious growl. 

Yikes. Whatever was out there, it sounded dangerous, even downright deadly. Maybe I shouldn't... 

Then I heard a voice. "H-help me!" 

I snapped my neck back in the direction of the commotion, alert. Someone was crying for help! There was no way I could walk away from this now. No way. Not without a guilty conscience, anyway. 

However, I couldn't just jump into action with just my bare hands, that could be suicide! People get killed every day from domestic pokemon, imagine what a wild Pokémon could do to me.

I looked around for something I could use as a weapon. I then noticed a thick branch sticking out of the bushes, and immediately grabbed it, then edged around the corner. 

Before me I saw a clearing of soft green grass, with emerald bushes in the surrounding area, and a tall tree producing shade all over the ground. A tranquil scenery, no doubt. Just the sort of place you'd expect a princess to be frolicking in with her cute and fuzzy animal friends, singing some ridiculous song about how wonderful everything was. 

That, however, was not what I saw-unless, of course, the man in the white lab coat was really an enchanted princess and that yelling of his was supposed to be singing, and that Pokémon chasing him was one of the cute and fuzzy animal friends gone bad. 

"H-help me!" he shouted again as he was chased around by a tan and brown Pokémon--a Zigzagoon, I think it was. 

Now at this point I would love to say that I kept my composure, took my stick in hand like a sword, and charged forth, saving the man before he got injured. But, no. This is Marcy you're talking to, remember? A fourteen year-old with zero Pokémon, zero experience, and a stick. Yup, that's hero material, all right. Evil-doers beware. All I need is a triangle on my hand and an annoying faerie and I'd be good to go! 

I stood there for about half a minute, unsure of what to do, frozen where I stood. Yep, just staring at the man as he was being attacked. I'm such a great hero, aren't I? I deserve a citizenship award for my exploits. 

As I stood there stupidly holding my stick, the man finally noticed me. "Hey! Hey! You! Knock the Zigzagoon out!" He shouted. 

I snapped out of my confusion. "O-okay! Right!" And after a second of going over my resources, I began to advance with the stick raised. 

"No!" The man yelled, "Don't beat it with a stick! Use something else to knock it out! Or just drive it away! Use another Pokémon! Don't you have one?" 

"No!" I yelled back pathetically, the stick hanging limply in my hands. 

"Fine! In my bag! Grab a Pokéball and use it! Hurry!" 

I looked around and saw a tan bag that had obviously been tossed on the ground. Throwing down the stick, I rushed over and unzipped it. Inside were two Pokéballs, nestled and cozy among the other items in the backpack. 

I hastily grabbed one of the balls and immediately took aim and threw it. It went sailing through the air, then it hit the Zigzagoon square on the head, stunning it for just a moment.

"Ha-ha!" I exclaimed, fist pumping. "Yea! I hit it!" 

The man paused for half a second in his running to yell over to me, "You're supposed to press the button to release the Pokémon!" 

I suddenly felt like picking up the stick again and beating myself over the head with it. 

GODDAMMIT. 

I reached back in the bag and pulled out the second Pokéball. 

"Okay, let's try this again." I muttered to myself as I actually PRESSED the button this time, then threw the red and white ball. 

As soon as it touched the ground, it opened, releasing a small red and orange bird. 

"Oh! A Torchic! Okay, uh..." I racked my brain for some sort of attack it might know. I looked over the Pokémon. "Oh!" I suddenly exclaimed, "You have claws! Scratch, Torchic! Scratch!" I ordered. 

The Torchic looked up at me with its beady little eyes and cocked its head. 

"Come on!" I exclaimed, "Scratch! Please!" 

It continued to stare at me. 

I finally lost my temper. "Scratch, dammit!" 

It looked at me for another moment. Then it promptly sat itself down and began pecking the ground. 

I was absolutely seething with anger. Then, brimming with fury and frustration, I picked up the little bastard and chucked it at the other Pokémon. 

To my surprise, the little twerp miraculously happened to land perfectly on the Zigzagoon's snout, leaving a deep scratch as it hopped off. 

"Ha! Yes!" I exclaimed, punching the air. 

The Zigzagoon, however, did not share my joy. It growled, then swiped at the Torchic, who dodged the attack neatly. 

"Good, Torchic!" I shouted, "You're doing great! Now, scratch again!" 

The Torchic glared back at me, but, to my surprise, it carried out the command obediently. 

As the Zigzagoon attacked and I gave orders to the Torchic to avoid them and attack back, I realized how easy it was all coming to me. In fact...it was rather...fun, actually. More fun than I thought it would be, at any rate. Enough fun that when in a matter of minutes the Zigzagoon had fled, I was almost sorry the battle was over. 

"Yeah!" I called after it. "You'd better run!" I knelt beside the Torchic. "We did a good job, huh?" I asked at I gave it a little pat on the head.

Unfortunately, this was not the wisest move, as it jumped up and scratched the back of my hand. 

"Yow!" I exclaimed, putting my hand up to my mouth. "What the Hell was that for?" 

Out of breath, the man, about whom I'd almost forgotten, jogged up to me. "Thank you...thank you so much...I was studying wild Pokémon in the grass when I was jumped..." 

"No problem, sir." I said, trying to nurse my hand, which thankfully wasn't bleeding, but still hurt Billy-oh. 

Now that he wasn't running around, I was able to look the guy over. He was middle-aged, with messy brown hair and blue eyes, and stubble on his chin. His white lab coat was crooked, and many buttons were in the wrong holes. Stains decorated his coat and sleeves. Worst of all, he wore shorts, which by itself isn't too bad, but he also wore black socks and flip-flops. 

Yup, there was no mistaking it. There was no doubt in my mind who this was. 

"You're a friend of my dad's, aren't you?" 

"What?" 

"I mean, you're Professor Birch, aren't you? Am I right?" 

"Why, yes I am. But how could you figure that, I've never met you before..." 

I shrugged. "Lucky guess." I held out my hand. "My name is Marcy Maple. Norman Maple's daughter?" 

His eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh! So you're Marcy! Pleased to meet you...yes, this explains a lot. I should have guessed you were a relation of Norman's before." 

"Uh...why?" I asked. 

He laughed, "Because the two of you have the same exact look in your eyes when battling! Norman Maple's daughter...no one will deny that once they've seen you battle!" He touched his hand to his chin the way Brendan had earlier. "Yet according to your father, you have never owned a Pokémon. Or used one." 

I shook my head. "Nope, never." 

"Hm..." He looked thoughtful for a moment. He then picked up the Pokéball and tossed it to the Torchic. "Torchic, return!" The Torchic obeyed, and he picked up the small red and white ball, and put it with the other recovered ball in the bag. "Well, this isn't exactly the best place to chat, so why don't you come with me to my Pokémon lab?"


	4. Her name is Allie

"So, Marcy." The Professor began once we were inside his lab. "I've heard so much about you from your father." 

"Uh-huh…" I muttered, looking around the room, which was bustling with aides, which, to put it bluntly, are a bunch of nerds in lab coats. 

"He told me you would probably be quite talented," He continued, "But I didn't know exactly what he meant until I saw you battle today. And I must confess, you pulled it off aplomb! I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. You really are your father's daughter!" He walked over to the counter and picked up one of the two Pokéballs there. "Anyway, as thanks for saving me, I would like you to have one of these Pokémon. It was the Torchic, correct..?" 

I nodded slowly, and all thoughts running through my head were along the lines of, Oh. My. Arceus. I was going to get an actual Pokémon of my own. A real Pokémon. Not a plushie. Not a card. A living, breathing Pokémon. And it would be mine. 

Of course, there were the downsides to these arrangements. After all, the Pokémon that I was getting was a little prick…but I guess beggars can't be choosers…after all, I could still be stuck with a goldfish… 

Professor Birch held out the metallic red and white ball. "You're actually quite lucky, Marcy. This particular specimen is actually quite difficult to find." 

Oh. Well, that was a bit of a relief. At least I could rest easy knowing that there weren't a million of these little jerks running around Hoenn. Otherwise I'd be too terrified to leave my house ever again. 

I took the ball and held it close to my face, the metal cool to the touch. I could feel the gentle vibration of the living being inside of it, the humming of life. 

"Well?" Professor Birch said, beaming with anticipation. "Go on, release the little cutie!" 

I knew it couldn't end well, considering my past experiences with the little demon, but I couldn't resist it. I was ready to meet my partner properly. I pressed the button, releasing the Torchic. 

The second it looked up at me, I should have known I was in trouble. But you know, even I'm a sucker for small animals. Who isn't? And Professor Birch had a point, the Torchic really was a cutie…with its shiny little eyes and its adorable bobble head…it reminded me of those ridiculously cute plush dolls with abnormally proportioned bodies…just so… 

Cute. 

I was totally distracted, of course, so I didn't notice that look of malice on its face until the stupid little bird toddled over to my side and jumped up, scratching my hand. Totally on purpose, might I add. 

"Yowch!" I cried, nursing my hand. Yup, happy feelings gone. "Why you little—" 

Professor Birch laughed, apparently pleased. "Such affection! See, it likes you already!" 

I gawked at him. Like, literally gawked, I stared at him open mouthed for a few seconds. "L-likes me?" I managed to choke out. "What are you, blind?" 

"No. I can see perfectly fine," He replied, looking puzzled. 

I gawked at him. Again. Then I sighed. "All right, then. You, my little friend, are going back in your—" 

"Wait! Aren't you going to name her?" Professor Birch asked anxiously. 

Great. Now I'm supposed to name it…her…whatever. What kind of name was I supposed to give this little prick? Demonic Debbie? Evil Erika? Mean Mary? Angry… 

"…Allie," I decided. "Her name is Allie. Now, Allie." I looked at her pointedly so she'd know I was talking to her. "You are going back in your ball." I glared at her. "Now." 

I aimed the ball at her, pressed the button, and tossed. But Allie, it seemed, had different ideas. The second she came in contact with the Pokéball, she batted it away with her head. 

"…What." I said, momentarily stunned. I tried again. Same result. 

Not for the first time that day did I wonder what heinous crimes against Pokémon I committed in my past life to deserve such a menace in my life. 

Professor Birch stroked his beard, obviously puzzled. "Huh. Now, that's really odd. I wonder…" He wandered over to the desk against the back wall and picked up a flat, red object. He flipped it open, revealing the device to in fact be some sort of electronic book. He scanned the contents a moment, then nodded, as if understanding something. He replaced the device and walked back over. "Well," He began, placing his hands behind his back. "I think I understand the problem." 

I wanted to inquire about the red device, but instead asked, "What's the problem?" 

He reached down and picked Allie up. "It seems that Torchics, along with their evolved forms, Combusken and Blaziken, are not particularly fond of the dark." He stroked her fluffy down with the back of his index finger. 

"Oh…So, are Pokéballs dark on the inside?" I asked. 

"I imagine so," He nodded. 

"You mean…you don't know for sure?" I was surprised. 

He laughed. "Of course not! Marcy, the only way to know what the inside of a Pokéball looks like is to actually be inside one! And do I look like I belong in a Pokéball?" He laughed again. 

I resisted the urge to say, "Yes you do,". 

"At any rate, you'll have to allow Allie to travel alongside you," He continued. "It's not as odd as you think—many trainers prefer it that way. And speaking of trainers…" His eyes twinkled at the word. "I think that if you're planning on becoming one, you should talk to my son, Brendan. Have you met him, yet?" 

I nodded. 

"Well, you'll find him on route 103. He's logging some wild Pokémon for me today, and that's where he said he'd be." 

"Sir," An aide tapped him on the shoulder, "We're having some trouble with this PC…" 

"All right, Deren, I'll be right there. So, Marcy. Seek out Brendan—he'll be happy to help you get started training that Torchic. Good luck!" And with that final farewell, he turned on his heel and followed Deren the supernerd, sorry, the aide. 

I chewed on my lip, looking over my options. Well, he didn't become a professor for nothing. The least I could do is follow his advice. 

I looked down at Allie. "Come on, Allie. Let's go find Brendan."


	5. A Wild Pokemon appeared!

As soon as I stepped foot out on route 103, I knew Allie was not going to be the ideal traveling companion.

And it wasn't just because of the abuse she'd already given me. No, I'm a little more thoughtful than that. There were several reasons why a Torchic in general doesn't make a great side-by-side travel companion. First of all, they're incredibly slow. Ever seen a Torchic? They have these tiny, stubby little legs that make no progress whatsoever when walking. Not to mention the fact that their heads are so huge compared to the rest of their bodies that they have to walk extra slow so that they don't fall down. So I'm forced to walk five times slower my usual pace (which really wasn't too bad considering my shoe situation, but still!). Plus, I'm sure Allie was walking EXTRA slow just to piss me off. Second, they're tiny. You have to keep looking around to make sure you know where they are. And…

They can sure hate.

I stopped in a patch of tall grass and sighed, turning around to face Allie.

"Look, Allie," I began, kneeling down to meet her at eye level. "I know we got off to a rough start. You know, I threw you, you bit me…and scratched me…and bit me again, but you know what, that's fine! That's in the past! We can put that all behind us, right? We can start off anew! Whaddaya say?" I held out my hand for her.

She stared at my hand for a moment, then did the thing I should have expected from the beginning: she scratched me.

"Yow!" I shouted, quickly withdrawing my hand. "God, can't you give me a brea—"

I was interrupted by a sudden rustle in the grass around me.

I stood straight up and looked around. Keeping perfectly quiet, I listened for another sound.

Besides the bubble of the creek beside us, no sound was to be heard.

"Huh," I commented, scratching my arm. "That was weird."

Just then, out of the grass pounced a black and grey blur, causing me to almost jump out of my skin.

"HOLY FfFF-!" I stumbled over my words as I narrowly avoided stepping back onto Allie.

The blur stopped about two feet in front of me, and now that it was still I could see that it was a small, canine-like Pokémon, only a foot or so tall, with scruffy, black and grey fur and a nasty overbite. I'd seen these before, but I couldn't recall for the life of me what it was called.

Besides, at the moment, it didn't matter what it was called. All that mattered as the fact that it was growling and glaring at me with its fierce, piercing red eyes and looked like it was ready to have some Marcy McNuggets with a side of Torchic Delight. I mean, it was small, but it sure looked tough. It looked like it could go twelve rounds with a Siberian Husky without breaking a sweat…wait, what the fuck was a Husky..?

My thoughts were interrupted by another loud growl from the wild Pokémon as it pawed the earth. Apparently it didn't want to attack me…if it did, it would have done so before. So, what was its deal? And what could I do? I couldn't run, it would just chase after me (plus, I couldn't run fast anyway, not with these shoes).

And that's when I stopped being stupid and remembered that I had a Pokémon right next to me.

"Allie!" I said after I had facepalmed myself. "Go! Scratch it!"

Allie, of course, looked the other way, deliberately ignoring me.

"Allie. Go. Scratch."

Still no response.

"…Do you want me to throw you again?"

She snapped her huge head around and looked up at me, her expression clearly reading, You Wouldn't dare.

"Oh, I would, Allie. You know I would. Now, if you don't want to play grenade again, go!"

Clearly disgruntled, but knowing she had no choice, Allie hustled out front, facing the wild Pokémon.

"Okay! Restart! Allie, scratch!" I commanded, pointing at the Pokémon.

Running forward, she jumped up to the face of the Pokémon, giving it a deep scratch on its right cheek.

"Great, Allie!" I cheered.

The Pokémon, however, wasn't so enthusiastic. It growled with even more ferocity and proceeded to tackle Allie, knocking her to the ground.

"Ooh! Ouch!" I winced. "It's okay, Allie! You'll be fine!" I shouted encouragingly. "Get on up!"

Allie looked absolutely furious. Her eyes flashed menacingly as she regained her balance. If she weren't ten times smaller than the other Pokémon, she would have ripped it to shreds, no questions asked.

"Okay, Allie! You're doing great! Now, scratch again!"

Allie didn't need to be told twice. She immediately bounded forward and delivered another scratch to the Pokémon, this time to its body.

Before I could even cheer in encouragement, the wild Pokémon tackled her again.

"Ah! Come on, Allie, get up! You're okay!" I certainly hoped she'd be okay…I didn't want my Pokémon to get seriously injured on the first day I had it, Christ.

The battle continued for a few more turns. Allie scratched, but the Pokémon always reciprocated with a brutal tackle…I didn't want to discourage Allie, but she seemed to have that size disadvantage…

"Allie!" I commanded once more. "Scra—"

Before I could finish my command, Allie leaped forward and opened her tiny mouth as wide as she could, like she was going to yawn, but instead a series of flames blasted from her beak, heading straight for the wild Pokémon.

"Oh, my…! ALLIE!" I exclaimed, startled. What fuck? What the fuck?? What just even? What??

The flames reached the Pokémon with no problem, singeing its fur and apparently burning it badly enough that it immediately scampered off, whimpering and whining the whole way.

Allie, apparently exhausted, sighed and immediately sat down, resting her head gently on the ground.

Still surprised and a little cautious, I carefully stepped over to Allie. "Allie? Are you all right?" I knelt down to examine her. Had what I thought had happened really happen? Did she really just…breathe fire? No, no way…But as I looked closer, I saw smoke trailing out of her beak in whisps.

"…Allie?" I asked, warily picking her up and holding her at arm's length.

She looked drowsy, so I didn't expect much of a response. But then, without warning, she suddenly sneezed, flames shooting out of her beak again.

Now, I would love to tell you that here I acted like a calm, rational human being, with total self-control.

But, of course I can't.

"OH MY GOD!" I yelled, jumping in place. "My Torchic is breathing fire! MY TORCHIC IS BREATHING FIRE! Oh my God! Are you going to spontaneously combust? You are, aren't you? Oh my God! OH! I have to get you to a Pokémon Center! I MUST get you to a Pokémon Center! You're going to spontaneously combust! You're going to EXPLODE!! Where's a Pokémon Center?" I managed to calm myself down and think rationally for a moment. "Oldale town. Right. There's a Pokémon Canter there. Dad said so. And that's North! North! THAT WAY! Don't worry, Allie, I'll save you!" I vowed as I ran as fast as my pinched shoes would allow me, yelling like an asylum escapee the whole way.


	6. So this is a Pokecenter

"This Torchic needs help!" I yelled as loud as I could as I burst through the entrance of the Oldale Pokémon center.

Heads turned to watch me as I bolted past them, holding Allie at arm's length. I rushed over to the shiny white counter and plopped her down on it. I was practically hyperventilating as I looked pleadingly into the face of the nurse on duty. She was a bubbly looking young woman with bubblegum pink hair. For about a second I was about to ask how on earth she got her hair to look that way but I managed to stay completely focused. "Please, ma'am, she's hurt!"

"Hurt? Oh, my…" She gingerly picked up Allie with perfectly manicured hands, "Well, I can see she has a nasty bruise on her side…" She gently extended Allie's wing, her eyes full of genuine concern.

"Yeah, I know, but I think she's going to spontaneously combust!" I exclaimed, slapping the counter.

The nurse looked shocked. "Spontaneously combust? Why on earth..?"

"Well, we were battling a wild Pokémon earlier, and this weird thing happened where she suddenly shot out a bunch of flames from her mouth, and—"

Allie then suddenly sneezed again, producing more flames and smoke.

"Yeah, yeah, and she sneezes fire! Now tell me, is that normal, because I really don't think it is!"

Then the nurse started to laugh. It wasn't a mean laugh, I mean, I knew she wasn't laughing at me, but I was still on defense.

"What? What are you laughing at?" I picked up Allie again and shoved her in the nurse's face. "Fix her!"

The nurse managed to finish giggling to say, "There's nothing to worry about, dear." She gently plucked Allie from my hands and coaxed her into one of the healing balls from the bin beside her. After she had handed off the ball to the Chansey assistant, who put it into the healing duct, she turned back to me. "Those things merely mean your Torchic is growing, getting stronger! The flames from her mouth? That's another move your Torchic can learn. It's called "Ember"—I expect it taught itself the move. It's actually very useful. Fire type moves are a Torchic's specialty, you know. And the sneezing is just a side effect of your Torchic adjusting to her new abilities. Nothing wrong, dear. Oh your Pokémon is ready!" She said, cheerily as you please, as she released Allie from the ball and handed her back to me.

Thankfully, my short-tempered Torchic was fighting fit.

Despite the explanation sounding like it came from some sort of pokemon puberty video, this was good news. Now I knew for sure I wouldn't have an exploding Pokémon on my hands—that would be a mess I would not want to clean up.

"Thanks, ma'am. Now I know what to expect in the future, then." I said to the nurse. I do with the professor had warned me of this, though... "Feeling better, Allie?" I asked. Allie, as usual, ignored me, but I couldn't let that dampen my spirits. "Well, let's go find Brenden, okay? Thanks again, ma'am!" I said, waving as I headed to the door.

"You're welcome," She replied, smiling brightly, "We hope to see you again!"

I stopped at the door and was about to turn around and give her a funny look because, honestly, it's an odd comment for a nurse, Pokémon or not, to make. I mean, she said she, "hoped to see us again,". The only way for her to see us again would be if Allie got seriously injured again. So, did she want my Pokémon to get hurt? Just so we'd come back to see her again? How sadistic was that—what kind of a nurse was this woman?

I considered making a comment about it, but I decided against it. So I gave her one last wave, and exited the Pokémon center.

"All right, Allie," I said, trying my best to sound jovial. "Now that you're all fixed up, let's go find Brendan, okay?" Honestly, we needed to find this kid. This search that should have taken three paragraphs has taken like two chapters! "His dad said he'd be around route 103…and that sign says route 103 is right there!" I pointed in excitement.

Allie looked quite miffed, but she followed me anyway as we headed over to route 103, sure to find Brendan around there somehow.


	7. He DOES have a Mudkip!!

Sure enough, as we walked up the dusty path of route 103, I caught sight of Brendan's snow white hat sticking out from among the greenery surrounding him. He knelt beside a small tree, poring over something in his hands, his eyes filled with deep concentration. I stopped and watched him a moment, slightly amused. I've never really advertised it, but I guess I have a fascination with watching people when they don't know I'm there. Stalkerish? Perhaps, but maybe that's because you've never tried it. Really, there's something so captivating about seeing someone when they're alone—sometimes it's almost like seeing a completely different side of them. You'd be surprised at how much people hide about themselves when they're around other people.

I didn't know much about Brendan, but from what I did know, I could see that he was the sort of person who didn't need the company of others to be content. He seemed perfectly at home in the grass, his posture relaxed and comfortable. Sure, he was looking at whatever was in his hands with a somewhat concentrated look in his eyes, but it wasn't a stressed out look. He was cool, collected, and calm.

"All right…" He muttered distractedly to himself, "So Zigzagoon, Poochyena, and Wingull all live on route 103…"

I cleared my throat.

He stood and immediately whirled around, his hands raised in defense. As soon as he saw me, his demeanor immediately relaxed. "Oh. Marcy! I thought you were something else!"

I raised an eyebrow, "Um…like what?" I asked, looking him over. Now that he was standing up, could see that he was a little disheveled. His hat was crooked, revealing neatly-parted bangs and a sweaty brow.

"Oh, you know…" He re-shouldered his green backpack and scratched the back of his neck. "Wild Pokémon. Nothing too major."

I frowned, not convinced of his last statement. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah! I'm fine! Like I said, everything's fine! Um, let's just get back onto the path…" He said, taking my shoulders and ushering me onto the dusty dirt path.

I glanced at his hand. "Is…is that a bite?" I asked, turning around, eyeing him.

"Uuuh…" He examined his hand, which was marked with a huge, red, blotchy, crescent-shaped scar, obviously more than a scratch. "…Yeah," He admitted, "But nothing serious! Just a Zigzagoon that, uh, got a little, um…aggressive."

"….I see." I said slowly, still not totally convinced.

"So, yeah, anyway, um, we should, like, get outta here…" He continued. "Uh, why are you here, anyway? Do you need something?"

"Yeah, your dad told me to find you."

"Why?"

Before I could say anything, as if on cue, Allie came out from behind me, her head tilted at an oh-so-cute angle and cooing softly. Little monster. Little conniving, evil, malicious…

"Oh," Brendan said, a look of comprehension dawning on his face. "Dad gave you the Torchic, huh?" He bent down, holding his hand out to pet Allie. Of course, she shuffled over to him and snuggled up to his fingers. She wouldn't bite him, oh no…

"Yeah. I helped him out of a jam earlier…he was getting chased by a wild Pokémon…"

Brendan shook his head. "Oh, great. Again? It seems like that happens weekly. You know, you'd think a Pokémon professor would be, you know, good with wild Pokémon…"

I grinned. "Heh, how ironic, huh?"

"Yeah…" He stood up, looking thoughtful. "Hey, Marcy," He suddenly said, pulling out a shiny Pokéball from his belt. "Wanna battle?"

I caught my breath, and my heart began to beat faster. A jolt went through my body, and I wasn't quite sure where it came from. But I was sure of one thing: I was being challenged to a battle. A real, legitimate, Pokémon battle. By another trainer. This wasn't some battle with a wild Pokémon that jumped you. This wasn't one of those imaginary battles in front of the bedroom mirror like the ones I used to have when I was a kid (whoops, did I just say that out loud?). No. A real battle. This was a pivotal moment of my life. A true milestone. So of course there was only one way to answer.

"Sure," I squeaked.

Oh. Beautiful, Marcy. That was so amazing. Way to keep your dignity. Pardon me, Brendan, whilst I go kick rocks in a freeway and die in a fire. Jeesh.

He nodded slowly. "All right," A mischievous grin appeared on his face. "Then let's begin."

In one swift movement, he clicked the button on the Pokéball and threw it to the ground, releasing the creature inside. I watched with interest as a small blue amphibian with bright orange cheek flaps emerged from its metal home. It yawned, scratched itself behind the ear—well, I'm assuming behind the ear, this is assuming it has ears—and stretched its small body.

"A Mudkip," I said aloud, recognizing the water type. "Hah, you have a Mudkip! Ha! Ha!" I laughed despite myself. "A Mudkip! You actually have a Mudkip! That's too funny…I never thought you'd actually like Mudkips…"*

His eyes narrowed. "What's wrong with Mudkips?" He demanded, in an eerily calm tone.

Whoops. "Nothing! There's nothing wrong with Mudkips, nothing at all! As a matter of fact, I love your Mudkip, it's adorable!" I insisted. "It's just…an inside joke. An inside joke, is all." I explained, shrugging and blushing furiously.

"…Oh." Brendan said, relaxed once more. "Okay. Sorry, I thought…never mind. Forget it." He cleared his throat. "So, let's begin, shall we? First, we've got to make some space for the two to battle…" We took a few steps apart. After all, both were small Pokémon, they didn't need too much space…

"All right!" Brendan said once we had put our partners in their positions. "So, you make the first move, Marcy."

I blinked in surprise. "Me? Why?"

"Well, since you're a beginner...I reckon I'd at least let you have first turn, this time. It isn't always this easy though--League regulations state that moving before the opponent even knows the battle has started is forbidden, anyway."

Ah, that's right. League regulations. Dad talked about the League all the time…if I wanted to get into this battling thing, I'd have to get to know the rules…well, I guess I'd learn as I go… "Okay, then. Allie!" I raised my voice, giving it a stronger, more commanding tone. I pointed at the Mudkip. "Go! Scratch!"

Allie treated me to her evil glare before rolling her eyes and scuffling over to her opponent. The Mudkip gave her a friendly little chirp, a happy shine in its eyes. Dammit, why couldn't I get the nice one?

Allie stared at the Mudkip for a moment, then suddenly delivered a deep scratch to its side. The amphibian had begun to dodge her attack, but dove away too late and flipped onto its side. It a moment, however, it was back on its feet, still ready to battle. It looked to its trainer for a command.

"Oh, so you're going for offense, eh?" Brendan said musingly. "I can play that game. Mudkip, tackle!"

As the blue Pokémon tackled my orange one, I flinched. Although the Mudkip was about the same size as Allie, it was still able to bring her down without too much trouble. "Scratch back, Allie!"

"Tackle again!" Brendan ordered after Allie had carried out her attack.

"Scratch!"

"Tackle!"

"Scratch!" I shouted. "Hah, looks like you've found a suitable opponent." I said, grinning at Brendan. It was true, actually. The small amphibian seemed to be losing its strength pretty quickly.

"Hah, yourself. That's what you think. There are lots of tricks up my sleeve." He said smugly.

"Like what?"

"Growl!" Brendan suddenly cried.

Instead of attacking, the somewhat battered Mudkip looked up at Allie and emitted a small, cute growl. It cocked its head to the side and opened its eyes even wider, giving Allie (and me) the full blast of its cuteness. Suddenly, even Allie seemed reluctant to attack.

Dammit, dammit, dammit…I needed a really good move…something that would finish the Mudkip off…but what? Scratch was good, but I felt like I could do better than that…I needed something stronger something more powerful, something…fiery…Wait, that's it!

"Allie, use Ember!" I ordered.

Brendan's eyes widened in confusion. "Wait, Ember? Your Torchic shouldn't—"

But before he could finish, Allie leapt forward, right in front of the Mudkip. She looked it straight in the eye, opened her mouth, and let all Hellfire loose—literally.

Though the attack didn't seem to have the effect I'd hoped it would—it seems like it did barely any damage—it seemed to do the trick. After the final blow, the Mudkip lay on the ground, exhausted.

"YES!" I exclaimed, doing a fist pump in the air. "Yes, I did it! Allie, you did great!" I cried, beaming down at her. She, of course, ignored me, but that was perfectly fine, because I had won a Pokémon battle. My first Pokémon battle.

After quickly retrieving his fainted Pokémon, Brendan. Shook my hand. "Great job, Marcy! You're not too shabby."

I couldn't hold back my smile. "Thanks! Is your Mudkip going to be okay, though…?"

"Yeah, he'll be fine. I'll fix him up at my dad's lab and he'll be up and running again in no time. Allie sure did a number on him, though…" He peered down at Allie, then picked her up. "Yeah, this is…odd."

"Why? What's wrong?" I asked.

"Well, according to studies, the only moves a Torchic at this stage should know would be Scratch and Growl. Yet Allie here knew Ember. That's way advanced. Very advanced."

I shrugged. "Early bloomer?"

"Maybe…" He put her down. "Huh. Now I think I understand." He nodded slowly. "I think I understand why my dad wants to keep an eye on you."

"He…he does?" I asked, trying not to feel too creeped out. I mean, Professor Birch probably had good intentions, but hey, I didn't become scared of Pokémon Professors for nothing, you know. You would be, too, if you knew Professor Palm!

"Yeah. He thinks you're something special, and I think I'm seeing why. I mean, look, your Torchic already likes you and you've only had her for less than a day!"

"Why the fuck does everyone keep saying that?" I exclaimed. "It's so fucking obvious the little asshole hates—"

"In fact," Brendan continued, not paying attention. "I think you could probably befriend about any Pokémon with ease."

"I'm not so sure about that," I mumbled.

He put a hand on my shoulder, giving me an encouraging grin. "Well, I am." He looked around himself. "Well, I think I've recorded all of the wild Pokémon in this area. Let's go back to my dad's lab, okay? I think you're going to be a great help to us."


	8. Gotta Catch 'Em All

"So you beat Brendan on your first try, eh? Well, congratulations, Marcy!" Boomed Professor Birch when we were in his lab later on. 

"Um, thanks, Professor…"

"Well, her Torchic was at a very advanced stage," Brendan defended himself, sounding slightly miffed. 

"Well, either way, advanced stage or not, Brendan already has an extensive history as a trainer. The mere fact that you beat him, no matter how you did it, is still impressive." Continued the Professor, nodding.

"That is true," Brendan admitted, his defenses lowering from the compliment. "Marcy does seem to have a bit of a gift with Pokémon." 

"No doubt inherited from her father! Norman is an excellent trainer, there are few who are better! It's no surprise that Marcy here in a natural trainer. And that gives me…a wonderful idea…Marcy. Would you be willing to help Brendan and I with a little…project we've been working on?" Professor Birch asked.

"Though I would hardly call it 'little'," Put in Brendan.

"Okay, fine, it's not exactly 'little'," admitted the Professor. "It'll be a huge help in the field of Pokémon."

"Yeah," said Brendan, "And if you helped us out, it would make everything a lot easier, Marcy!"

They both fixated their eyes on me, waiting for my response.

I sighed. "Well, it would kind of help me make my decision if I knew what kind of project it was, for starters."

"Right, right," Said Professor Birch, "Let me show you, then."

He then reached around and picked up an object off of the counter behind him.

"This," He said, holding up the bright red gadget he had used earlier, "Is a Pokédex." 

"A what?"

"A Pokédex," answered Brendan, enunciating the word slowly. "It automatically records data of every Pokémon you meet or catch."

"I couldn't have said it better myself, Brendan," Complimented the Professor.

His son beamed.

"I had ordered this one for my own research, Marcy, but...I think you should have it." Professor Birch said, handing it to me.

The Pokédex, as I thought, was a lot like a small electronic book. It flipped open to reveal a keypad and screen.

"Um, this is cool and all…but what exactly do you want me to do?" I asked, holding the Pokédex at my side.

"Well, as you probably know, the world of Pokémon is still a mystery to us." The Professor began, "We know a lot, but we still don't know everything. What I want both you and Brendan to do is go around the region and collect data on every single Pokémon in Hoenn."

"Wow. Sounds like a lot of walking," I commented, thinking of my small shoes. I slipped the Pokédex into my back pocket, taking a mental note to not sit anywhere.

"It isn't as difficult as it seems," Professor Birch insisted. "There are Pokécenters throughout the region that allow Pokémon and their trainers to stay for free. You will never be without a roof over your head." He promised. 

Erm. Well, I guess it might be fun…"So we just have to see every single Pokémon in Hoenn? Sounds easy enough…"

"Well. It's not that simple." Countered the Professor. "You see, the only way to get full data on a Pokémon is to actually catch it."

"Yeah," Said Brendan, "Like I've seen a ton of Pokémon, but I don't actually have data on them because I've never actually caught them…like Mightyena, Shroomish, and Oddish…"

"Wait wait wait, Oddish?" I stopped to think a moment. "Aren't they those people who dress up like pilgrims and don't have electricity? I knew they weren't human!" I exclaimed triumphantly. 

"…No, no, those are Ahmish." Professor Birch corrected. "I don't even think we have Ahmish in Hoenn. Oddish is a species of Pokémon, you'll probably catch one at some point."

Oh. Darn. "Okay…so, basically…I've gotta catch 'em all."

"Basically."

"You know, my uncle said he was going to do something like that that."

"Really? What's your uncle's name?"

"Ash Ketchum."

"Never heard of him."

"Not many people have."

"Well, no matter. So, Marcy. Are you up to the task?"

I nodded. "Yup," I mean, what else was I going to do with my time? I mean, I probably won't be great at it…but I'll give it my best shot.

Brendan stepped forward. "Well, then you're going to need these." He said, giving me a handful of marble-sized Pokéballs. 

"Wow! Thanks, Brendan! But, why are they so tiny..?"

"They're in vacant mode right now," He explained. Thank Arceus he didn't ask why I didn't know… "You press the button to expand them."

I dropped them into my jacket pocket. "Are you sure you don't need them?"

"Nah, don't worry, I have a ton." He winked at me. "Go get 'em, Marcy."

I grinned. "Thank you both so much. Come on, Allie," I said to my Torchic, who, as I now saw, had been harassing an aide this whole time. The poor guy was cowered in a corner, too scared to move. I somehow got her away from him and apologized about fifty times. 

Eventually, I reached the doors. "Bye, Brendan, bye Professor!"

"I'll probably see you on the road, keep an eye out for me!" Brendan replied, waving.

"I will!" I promised, waving back. Then I pushed open the doors and exited the lab.

xXx

I figured I'd start filling out the Pokédex tomorrow. I mean, it was a huge project, I needed to prepare. And plus, the first thing I wanted to do was eat. I mean, I thought I had been hungry before, but at this point I was practically starving. I hadn't eaten anything but Lucky Charms that day, and that was nine hours ago. I. Needed. FOOD.

Oh…and my feet still hurt…

As I approached my house, I saw that my mom was standing outside the front door, with a box in her hands.

"Hi, Honey!" She tittered as I walked up. "Did you introduce yourself to Professor Birch, yet?"

"Uh, yeah," I said. "And—"

"Oh! What an adorable Pokémon!" She exclaimed, pointing at my feet.

"Oh. Yeah, she's a Torchic…" I said, picking Allie up and handing her to my mom.

"Well, I can see that! But, how did you..?"

I laughed. "Believe me, Mom. A lot can happen in…" I checked my watch. "Twenty-five minutes." I frowned, than checked again. Wow, it's only been twenty-five minutes? I would have sworn it had been longer…

Mom smiled. "Well, you are your father's daughter all right!" She scratched Allie under the chin. "You look good together with Pokémon!"

"Riiiight…" I said, unconvincingly. "Um, what's in the box?"

"Hm? Oh, right," she said, putting Allie down. "Well, I understand that in all the excitement of the move, we weren't able to buy you a new pair of shoes. And I've been noticing that you've been, er, limping everywhere…"

"Really?" I asked in surprise. "I've been actually limping?"

"What, do it doesn't hurt?"

"Oh, it hurts all right!" I exclaimed. "I just didn't know that I'd been actually, you know, limping…"

"Well, you'll be limping no longer! See?" She opened the box. "I got you new running shoes!"

I could almost hear the Hallelujah chorus.

"Oh my Arceus. Mom. I love you!" I said, falling to my knees. "Thankyou thankyou thankyou thankyou thankyou!" I almost cried, hugging her legs.

"Well! I didn't expect you to be this happy…"

"Believe me, Mom," I said, sitting down with my new shoes and ripping the old ones off. "I am."

She held up a slip of paper. "They came with instructions…"

"Instructions?" I asked, slipping the running shoes on.

"Yes, they say—"

"Oh, who needs instructions? They're shoes, Mom."

"I know, but I think we should read them all the same." She looked at the paper. "They say, 'Press B to run!'."

"…That's it?" I looked at her. "What the Hell's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not sure. Huh. Perhaps we don't need the instructions, after all. You look good, Honey!" She commented as I stood up.

"Yup! And they feel good, too!" And that they did. It was like my feet had been released from a torture chamber. "Now," I picked up my old ratty shoes. 'As for you, you vile, miniscule goulashes, I shall need you no more!!" I drew my arm back, took no aim whatsoever, and chucked them as hard as I could manage. Mom, Allie, and I watched with mild interest as they sailed through the air and out of sight. 

Then we heard a thump, a wail, and the sound of shattering glass from somewhere nearby.

"…Perhaps you shouldn't get those." Mom said in a low tone.

"Oh, don't worry. I won't. Ever."

"Well, now," Mom said, looking me over with her hands on her hips. "Now that you've got new shoes, I think you should go visit your father in Petalburg, all right? You can show him your Pokémon!"

I sighed. I really didn't feel like it, but as I had new shoes, I really didn't have an excuse not to. "All right, Mom. But can I—"

"Oh!" Mom exclaimed. "There's something else I forgot to give you! Stay right there, don't move!" She rushed inside, leaving me at the doorstep.

I sighed. I just moved into a new house, and I barely get to spend any time in it. My stomach growled again, and I looked around, kind of hoping someone had dropped a burger on the ground or something. Hey, you know what, don't look at me like that, all right? I haven't eaten once since this story started, and I'm hungry. Don't judge.

"Found it!" Mom sang as she came back out, holding a green messenger bag. "This should help you out with training that sweet little Torchic of yours."

I wanted to challenge that statement, but decided to ignore it. "Wow! Dad's old training bag!" I exclaimed, genuinely surprised.

"Mm-hm! He always used this when he trained, and now that he's a gym leader, he doesn't need it anymore. It's your turn, Honey!"

I slid the bag over my shoulder. The bag was old, but it was still sturdy. The olive green color wasn't faded in the slightest. I could almost feel Dad's aura emitting from it…

I found the Pokéball compartment and slid the ones Brendan had given me inside. The Pokédex went in the foremost compartment.

I smiled at my mom. "Thanks, Mom." 

Was it just me, or were her eyes misty? "Oh, you're welcome, Hon," She said, pulling me close and hugging her. "You've grown up so much…it's hard to believe you're already training your own Pokémon…"

I hugged her tightly. "It's all right, Mom. I'll always be your daughter, right? You'll always be my Mom. I'll always be here, no matter how old I get…"

"I know, I know…" Letting me go, she wiped her eyes. "Well, Marcy. You're all set. Be careful, okay?"

"I will. And I'll say hi to Dad for you, all right?"

She smiled. "I'd like that. Now go on, Honey! And take care of that Torchic, she's a sweetheart…"

"Whatever you say, Mom. See you later!"

**Author's Note:**

> Holy crap. I'm finally reposting this on here. I was working on this a while back but kept forgetting to post on here...well, hopefully it still stands on its own. I wrote this like. Five years ago? About.


End file.
